


Affections of the Brotherly Sort

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Early Season Era, Kelpies, M/M, Pining!Sam, Sibling Incest, casefic, mentioned Dean/Cassie, mentioned Sam/Brady, mentioned Sam/Jess, sick!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11099121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Sam's been pining after Dean for years.





	Affections of the Brotherly Sort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sang_argente](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sang_argente/gifts).



> This is a commission for the wonderful @delicatesammy, who wanted Wincest featuring pining!Sam. I hope you enjoy it, Sweetheart!

Sam looked over covertly at Dean and sighed to himself, returning to the book of lore in his lap. He’s not sure what they’re hunting this time, but trying to find out what it was was taking a long time. 

Especially since Sam was distracted. 

He’s had a crush on Dean since he was sixteen and accidentally caught his twenty year old brother coming out of the shower. Dean had passed it off as an eagerness to get the vampire blood off of him and laughed, telling him to get in the shower. 

Since then, Dean’s starred in his masturabatory fantasies ever since. 

_ He’s your brother,  _ he kept reminding himself.  _ Incest is not exactly welcome in society.  _

That didn’t keep him from yearning throughout the past few years, pining for Dean. That didn’t stop the jealousy that welled up every time Dean had a conquest. 

At Stanford, Sam figured out that he was, at the very least, bisexual, first dating Brady before moving onto Jessica. He loved them both, especially Jessica, but it seemed like there was always a part reserved for Dean. 

But Dean. . . . Dean was definitely straight. And even if he wasn’t, there wasn’t a chance in Hell that Dean would fuck his baby brother. Not only would Dean see that as absolutely nasty, but it would go against what their father’s been telling them since Dean was four years old.  _ Watch out for Sammy. Don’t let anything bad happen to Sammy.  _

Sam’s not sure how getting fucked into next week by his older brother was “bad”, but he knew Dean would find a way to contort it. Dean always did. 

Returning to the lore book, he allowed his chestnut curls to fall a little into his face, eyes skimming the pages, looking for anything that might pop out at him. 

“Find anything yet?” 

Dean’s voice came from next to his ear all of a sudden and Sam jumped, turning to give his big brother a glare. “Dammit, Dean!” he said, picking the heavy lore book up and hitting Dean in the arm with it. “Don’t do that!” 

Dean laughed, flashing Sam that smile that melted any girl’s- and Sam’s- heart that it was directed at. “Sorry Sammy.” 

“It’s  _ Sam, _ ” Sam insisted. “And no, I haven’t found anything yet. Have you?” 

“Not a damn thing.” Dean peered over his shoulder as Sam returned to his research, ignoring how close Dean was. That is, until Dean rested his head on Sam’s shoulder. 

“May I help you?” Sam asked, turning his head slightly to regard his older brother. 

“Just seein’ what you’re readin’,” Dean said casually. 

“You don’t normally rest your chin on my shoulder when you do that,” Sam pointed out, squashing down the feelings of hope that Dean reciprocated his- what, seven year?- crush on him. 

“I like making you uncomfortable.” Dean flashed one of those grins again. 

Sam groaned and shoved Dean off of him. “Jerk,” he grumbled, curling back up with his book. 

“Bitch,” Dean grinned. “I’m going to go on a food run, your usual?” 

“Yeah sounds good,” Sam said absently, turning the page in his book, already absorbed once more. 

 

Turns out that the monster was a kelpie. It was not a fun hunt, as Sam ended up on the back of the kelpie, being bucked around and headed towards the lake while trying to remove the bridle and recite the exorcism. 

_ Not good, not good, not good,  _ he mentally chanted in his head as his voice struggled through the Latin he needed to say. 

“DEAN!” he finally shouted. “SHOOT IT.”

Dean shot the kelpie in the flank, which proceeded to give a forceful buck, sending Sam flying into the middle of the lake. 

He could vaguely hear two more shots from Dean as he began to swim upwards in the cold water- Lake Superior in January wasn’t known for its warmth- and break the surface, taking a deep lungful of air and treading water so he’d stay above water and regain some air before he had to swim the fifty meters to shore. 

“DON’T MOVE, SAMMY!!”

“Dean,” he grumbled tiredly, still treading water. His eyelids were feeling heavy, like he wanted to go to sleep, but he knew it was from researching for three days straight with two hours of sleep and he just rode a freakin’ water-equine spirit. Of course he was exhausted. Of course he wanted sleep. 

“SAMMY! STAY AWAKE!” 

“Got it!” he called back weakly. Maybe if he started swimming, he won’t feel so tired. . . 

He swam about six yards before he collapsed, face first into the water. 

 

He woke up with a groan, feeling warm and he snuggled back into the pillows, seeking out that warmth. 

“Nope, none of that.” 

“De?” he mumbled. 

Oh no. He must be sick. That was Dean’s I Am Your Mother voice, and he only ever calls Dean “De” if he was sick. Or super horny. But he’s fairly certain that Little Sam was not a happy camper at the moment, so sick it was. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Sit up, let’s get some soup into you,” Dean said, rolling Sam back onto his back and helping him sit up. “Don’t make me airplane you, Sammy.”

“It’s  _ Sam,  _ De,” Sam mumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean kept the blankets tucked around Sam before sitting a bowl of soup down on the table and picking up a spoon. “Ready?” 

“What kind is it?” Sam asked softly. He just wanted more sleep. 

“It’s uh. . . It’s homemade chicken noodle,” Dean said with a soft smile, brushing Sam’s hair out of his face. “With all the veggies and stuff that you like in it.” 

“Really?” Sam asked hoarsely. 

“Really,” Dean said, scooping a spoonful up and holding it to Sam’s pale lips. “Open up, bitch.” 

Sam closed his mouth around the spoon and gave a soft moan at the explosion of chicken, veggies, salt and pepper in his mouth, all coated in a nice warm broth. 

“Tastes good, huh?” Dean sounded proud. “I made sure I got us a motel that had a kitchenette so I could make this.” 

Sam gave a weak smile, accepting another spoonful of soup. “How long have we been here?” he asked softly. 

“You’ve been out for a couple of days. Nearly got hypothermia.” Dean fed him another spoonful. “You’ve gotten a slight fever, so I’m trying to sweat it out. Haven’t been able to wake you up for those couple of days.” 

Sam groaned. “So we’re stuck here until I’m better?” he asked

“Sure thing. I want you to eat half this bowl and drink some tea,” Dean said. 

Sam made a face, eating another spoonful. “I’m sleepy,” he whined.

“I know, but you need nutrients and fluids,” Dean said. The Mom Voice was back, and Sam knew better to argue against it. 

It took a while for Sam to eat enough soup for Dean to be satisfied, and drink half his cup of tea, but it happened. By then, the fever was crinkling behind Sam’s eyes, and he snuggled back down under the bed. 

“De?” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean asked. 

“You’re so good to me. . . so nice and caring,” Sam slurred, letting Dean tuck him in more firmly. He blinked fever filled eyes up at Dean. 

“Dude, that’s my job, looking out for you,” Dean said. Feelings were being spoken. 

“Yeah, but you do so good at it, De,” Sam mumbled, giving a small yawn. “Wish it could be more.” 

“More how?” Dean sounded confused and he rested on the side of Sam’s bed, feeling his forehead with the inside of his wrist. 

“Like wha’ you did with Cassie an’ ‘em,” Sam murmured. “Wanna be like that.” 

And with that, Sam drifted off to sleep. 

 

Sam spent the next week or so recovering. He didn’t remember confessing to Dean that he wanted a relationship or anything, and Dean never made mention of it. 

The pot of soup Dean made lasted through the week for the both of them, and Sam ate and got better and better under Dean’s watchful eye. 

Seventeen days after Sam got bodily thrown into the water,  he was on his laptop, hunting for their next case. Their funds were low, so they’d have to make a couple stops while they looked for another one to hustle pool and do a couple of credit card scams, and Sam figured he’d find a casino or two to try to bluff his way through some poker. 

“Anything?” Dean asked as he came back in with some food for them. A salad for Sam and a burger for Dean. 

“Not a thing,” Sam admitted, closing his laptop and setting it aside. He ran his hand over his face and stood up, making his way over to Dean. “Thanks, man.” 

Instead of replying, Dean reached out and grabbed the front of Sam’s shirt, pulling him in and kissing him softly, yet firmly. 

Sam stood there, shellshocked for a moment before resting a hand on Dean’s waist and kissing him back. Dean tasted like whiskey and apple pie- he must’ve eaten it in the Impala, because it was fresh- and heaven, and Sam wanted more of it. 

“I didn’t forget what you told me, Sammy,” Dean breathed against his lips. “Didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Sam huffed a laugh. “Since I was sixteen and caught you coming out of the shower,” he admitted. 

Dean chuckled and dropped the food on the table behind him, tugging Sam closer. “I think I realized how much you meant to me the night you told me you got accepted into Stanford,” he admitted. 

Sam smiled and looked at Dean openly and honestly. “I thought you’d call me a freak,” he admitted. “That it was wrong, or that it wouldn’t have been you protecting me.”

Dean scoffed and kissed Sam gently. “You’re not a freak, Sam. Not really. Sure you’re a nerd, but that’s it.” 

Sam chuckled and kissed him back. “I need you, all of you,” he whispered. 

“Do you top or bottom?” Dean murmured. 

“Definitely bottom,” Sam groaned. “Want my big brother to fuck me.” Words he’s said aloud thousands of times, in soft whispers in the dark and quiet whimpers in the shower, falling on the sounds of Dean snoring and the tattooing of shitty water pressure. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby boy,” Dean soothed, and Sam melted. He always wondered what Dean would call him in bed and as a nickname, and never in his wildest imaginings did he think it’d be “baby boy”.

They kissed for a bit longer, testing boundaries before Dean pulled away. Turning them, he walked over and sat down on the bed, pulling Sam closer. “Come here, baby boy,” he cooed. “Let big brother take care of you.” 

Sam went willingly. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


End file.
